From the Mind
by Sakura Scout
Summary: A series of oneshots that randomly come to mind and are written down. Rating may go up as more oneshots are uploaded. READ AND REVIEW PLEASE!
1. Look Over Here

One-shots are very uncommon from me, so I hope this is okay. It just came to me when I was at LiveJournal reading a whole bunch of fanfiction.

If you are one of my UDPF readers: No worries. I'm working on chapter 10. I just gotta work on yearbook stuff, finals, and the like too.

Disclaimer: Butch Hartman, Nickelodeon, and whoever it concerns are the lucky dogs who own the show 'Danny Phantom' and the characters Paulina and Danny Fenton. I own nothing of importance other than this one-shot. T-T

* * *

**_Look Over Here_**

_one-sided Danny+Paulina_

January 8, 2006****

* * *

She was beautiful. Luscious, wavy locks of ebony cascading down her back, pinned away from her face with a single pink hair clip. Her face must have been carved by angels, it was the only explanation why even in scowl she looked absolutely radiant. Then there was the drop-dead body she possessed with 'nearly flawless' skin. 

He had the pleasure of having physical contact with her before, but she had either been overshadowed or after his ghostly alter-ego.

Sighing, he watched as her indigo eyes twinkled with dreams of romance at her open locker, which had been converted into a small shrine of his other half, Danny Phantom.

"Look over here," he whispered softly to her, though he knew she wouldn't be able to hear him.

"I'm right here."


	2. Nonexistent

Another mindless one-shot. I blame the fanfiction on LiveJournal, I really do.

Disclaimer: I ONLY ON THIS HERE FIC!

* * *

**_Nonexistent_**

_mild Danny+Sam_

January 8, 2006

* * *

It was an incredible feeling. You were weightless, like none of your troubles or responsibilities could pull you down. The tingling through your whole being was an added bonus. It was almost as if the air around you was now going _through_ you.

She laughed at that.

Of course the air was going through you. To the air and pretty much everything else, you were nonexistent, from both sight and touch. She took that back. You were nonexistent to everything and anyone except for _one_.

Lithe fingers tightened their grip around a calloused hand, causing the latter to return the gesture.

Lime green met amethyst, a smile playing on both of their owners' lips.


	3. Take Them Out

Something inspired by the episode/mini-movie "The Ultimate Enemy". Longer than I was intending for any of these one-shots to be, but I like this one.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but this story.

* * *

**_Take Them Out_**

_Danny's breaking point_

January 9, 2006

* * *

It had been a month since their deaths and Danny still couldn't keep track of his emotions.

In the beginning, it was easy. It was almost like someone had ripped out his heart in one swift motion, even having the courtesy to severe the nerves so it wouldn't hurt. Where his heart was suppose to be, there was just an empty pericardial cavity or so at least that's how it felt.

Shortly after the funeral, scorn, pity, and legal affairs, he found himself at the front steps of Vlad Masters' estate with his suitcase. The rest of his belongings and whatever had been left to him in accordance to his parents' will would arrive later on. In all honesty, the young halfa didn't care.

He liked it when he couldn't feel anything. It was much better than having his emotions overwhelm him to the point where he couldn't function. Yes … The numbness was preferred.

That feeling had lasted him until he had 'settled' into his new room. It was extremely roomy with dark hues and so engulfing in its depressiveness that Danny's chest constricted painfully at the thought of Sam. He tried fighting the psychological pain, but lost the struggle when Bearburt Einstein was thrown into his line of vision along with the MP3 player Tucker had gotten for him at his fifteenth birthday.

The onslaught was merciless as it condemned him to the ground, taking away his strength and the air from his lungs. Tears burned his eyes and blurred his vision, only adding to the dizziness he felt. He was helpless and there was nothing that his human body could offer to stop the pain.

Before the tears could fall or a sob escape his lips, Danny called upon the cold darkness that rested inside of him. A ring of white light encircled his waist, separating into two halos. They traveled the length of his form in opposite directions, one superior and the other inferior.

Pain, dizziness and tears left him, his strength doubling, but having the refreshing air fill his lungs was absent. He couldn't even hear the blood rushing past his ears, much less feel it pulse through his veins.

Becoming a ghost was the only means he had to escape the emotions; it was the only way he could overcome the pain. Without washing away his humanity, he was weak and dysfunctional. It was through his ghost half that he was able to gain strength and control over himself, the only control he had left since fate decided to take the whole of it away from him.

That had happened almost three weeks prior to the moment at hand. In the duration of those twenty-one days, Danny suffered far worse than anyone expected from his bouts of emotional overload. It was because of the young halfa's emotional imbalance that Vlad had withdrew his adoptive son from school with a little over a month left in the school year. The billionaire had even went to lengths to ensure the blue-eyed boy wouldn't be disturbed by any supernatural happenings of any sort.

When Vlad had had informed him of all of this, Danny had just stared at the older man with a hallow azure gaze.

Now, two days since his last attack, Danny sat on his bed looking at the beaming faces of his family and friends, immortalized in a framed photo of them in front of Fenton Works. He skimmed over each of their visages, tracing their images with his index finger.

He blinked and found that the picture was slightly disfigured. To clear his vision, he blinked again only to have all the faces in the photograph smear; all except one.

His own brightly smiling face mocked him from behind the glass of the wooden picture frame. It was then he realized that he was crying.

With a sneer of utter disgust, the troubled youth stood and threw the rectangle piece of wood at the wall, shattering the glass.

As the tears silently refused to stop their cascading, he reached deep inside himself for the emotional bliss of his ghost side, but it would not answer to his beckoning for once.

Somewhere along the lines of frustration and anguish, he let out a throatily growl, clutching his sides as if willing the darkness to engulf him by force. It would not come.

His knees gave out from under him and he tumbled to the floor, eye shut tightly from the burning of the overflowing tears that would not cease. The pain in his chest resonated through the marrow of his ribs out to the rest of his skeletal system, seeping into his muscles and blood stream. Dizzy was an understatement as to how he felt. He felt nauseated from the sickening vertigo he was experiencing and the plunging of whatever remained of his heart into the pit of his stomach.

A broken sob, so weak and pathetic, was let out from the back of his hoarse throat. Just hearing himself cry broke the boy even more. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard what his cries were. He was crying out to the six people who had given him strength, hope, support, and gave him the control he just couldn't seem to muster on his own.

Vlad had chosen that time to enter the room, finding an emotionally broken Daniel Fenton huddled in a fetal position on the cold wooden floor at the base of the bed. The sight surprised the man. Every time Danny had an emotional attack, the boy transform into his emotionally detached ghostly counterpart before the tear fell, remaining in the form of Danny Phantom for an hour or two and reverting back into an empty shell of Daniel Fenton.

Vladimir Masters had never seen Danny cry.

Playing the part of the concerned parent, the experienced halfa all but flew to the side of his young charge, gathering the young boy into his arms. He tried to comfort the child, but the teenager was struggling against his hold, thrashing and screaming at him. Every curse word imaginable and countless of crude names were thrown at the older man, who tried to settle the boy down.

When it seemed as if Danny's tantrum would never end, Vlad heaved a great sigh and pulled the younger halfa against him before he converted himself into Vlad Plasmius. As the black rings faded from sight, the vampire ghost stepped away from the now silent boy.

Daniel Fenton sat on his thighs, arms still wrapped around his middle with pained blue-eyes gazing at the broken picture frame about five feet from where he was. A white light filled the room before Danny Phantom stood and walked over to the shattered pieces of glass and splints of wood. He stood over the mess he created and caused it disappear from existence with a shot of green ectoplasm.

"Daniel …" Vlad had returned to his human form, cautiously approaching the boy.

Phamtom kept his back turned to the white-haired man. "I don't want it … I don't want these emotions." He turned to his adoptive father. "Take them out."

"Emotions are part of you. They're what make you human--"

Danny Fenton stood firmly. "Then take out my humanity."


	4. Public Displays of Affection

Inspired by a common camp rule. "No PDA."

Disclaimer: I own nothing but this story.

* * *

**_Public Displays of Affection_**

_Tucker in love_

January 17, 2006

* * *

It had been nearly unbearable without his most loved thing in the world and those long minutes without the briefest of touches almost sent him over the edge.

Now was the time to make up for the long absence of the two being apart for so long.

He let the coolness seep into the palm of his hand as well as the slick feel as he stroked his cheek against his beloved.

Planting a tender and loving kiss upon an unrelenting surface, he sighed in contempt and clutched his baby closer to his chest.

Sweet, comforting whispers came from his lips, falling on deaf ears for the one he was cooing to couldn't care whether or not they were loved by this boy.

"For as many times as I've seen him do it, that _still_ weirds me out." Danny slammed his locked close, his right brow raised in an uncomfortable gaze.

Sam leaned against the recently shut locker, eyes set in their usual defiant look. "Weird is an understatement, disturbing _definitely_ describes it better."

Tucker cradled his precious his hands while glaring at his two best friends. "You guys are just jealous!"

"Yes Tucker," Sam's voice dripped with sarcasm, "We are all so jealous of you making out with your PDA in public, especially in class with Mr. Lancer standing right next to your desk."


	5. Worry

Title: Worry Fandom: Danny Phantom  
Character(s): Maddie  
Genre(s): General  
Rating: G  
Note: A mother waits late into the night for her son to come home.  
Disclaimer: I own nothing but this story.  
Written: November 28, 2006

* * *

He's late. He's always late.

And I, as a mother, worry for my son.

Yes, he _is_ 14, a teen, a young adult, but he is still so very young. 14 is too young of an age to be staying out at the hours he does, doing God-knows what. I don't distrust him; I know he isn't doing something stupid or foolish, he's smarter than people give him credit for. But he's still just a boy, _my_ boy. I worry about the places he goes, the people he sees, the things that he do but doesn't tell me. I want to make sure he is safe, that he's making good choices that he's not getting into trouble.

He does little to alleviate my fears.

It worries me when he isn't in his bed at 3 in the morning.

It worries me even more when he's collapsed on his bed, in his street clothes, covered in cuts and bruises.

I'm worried to tears that he's caught up in some mess, something dangerous, that he just won't tell me or worse ... that I can't help him with.

He is my son. I am his mother. It is my right, my duty, to worry over him, to stay up at odd hours wondering where he is, what he's doing. I love him too much to stop caring the way I do.

He is my boy.

But ...

He's growing up before my eyes.

He's becoming a man.

And that frightens me.

It is my right, my duty as his mother to worry if he is growing into the man he truly wants to be.


	6. Shut Up

Title: Shut upFandom: Danny Phantom  
Character(s): Sam, Danny  
Genre(s): General, Angst  
Rating: G  
Note: Inspired by a friend of mine.  
Disclaimer: I own nothing but this story.  
Written: 29 January 2007

* * *

Nurses and doctors scrambled here and there; people (wheelchairs, crutches, and by foot) made their way to where they were directed; who needed little to no attention sat or paced with bored, concerned, anguished, angered, impatient, or anguished expressions.

Others just didn't know what to do or feel.

She sat across from him, eyes downcast and turbulent.

He wanted to comfort her, but didn't know how.

"Sam."

She looked up with a blank face and vivid eyes.

"I'm sorry." He knew that it wasn't his fault and his apology sounded all the more pathetic because of that fact.

"Don't be." They were her first words in about an hour and they sounded strained and coarse.

"But I am." It was the truth. He felt somewhat responsible despite everything and all he wanted to do was to take away the pain he saw in her amethyst gaze.

She looked away from him, her bangs shadowing her eyes from sight. "Then you're just being stupid."

"I'm just concerned. I am your friend--"

"Then shut up and leave me alone!" Her eyes returned to him, blazing with self-hate, regret and sadness, flooding with unshed tears.

"You weren't even there! I don't need you here and neither does Tucker! SO GO ALREADY!!"

She pulled her legs up to her chest to hug them with trembling arms and buried her face into her knees with a shaky breath.

He watched as her muffled sobs racked her small frame.

He stood up from his seat and slowly made his way to her, reaching out a hand hesitantly. His palm met with her tousled hair, fingertips playing with her half ponytail.

She shifted under his touch, crying harder.

"I should have been there; I could have done something. If I hadn't been late--"

"Sh-shut up," she whispered through her sobs. "You w-weren't, I was. There wasn't a-anything you c-could have done."

"Sam--"

"Sh-shut up, Danny!" She sobbed, and then whimpered. "Just shut up."

The two friends stayed like that; one seated, curled into herself while the other desperately tried to break through her defenses and ease her pain.

They waited in that dreary hospital to see if their dear friend would make it through the night.


	7. Fear

Title: Fear  
Fandom: Danny Phantom  
Main Character(s): Danny  
Supporting Character(s): Mr. Lancer  
Genre(s): General  
Rating: G  
Note: Inspired by my recent midterms.  
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the stories I write.  
Written: 27 February 2007

* * *

Fear flooded his senses.

Unyielding, blood-curdling, girly-high-pitched-screaming, peeing-in-your-pants fear pumping through his every vein.

He clutched his eyes tight, feeling his body tremble with great force.

Then he heard the footsteps.

Sweat trickled down the side of his face as he took air into his lungs with short, rapid breaths.

Closer and closer they came with loud, thundering steps before stopping.

He could practically feel the body heat radiate from the figure he knew was now beside him.

"Mr. Fenton," the voice boomed and echoed around his head.

He swore the world was about to collapse in on him.

"Mr. Fenton," the voice repeated and he suddenly wondered if his panicky emotions had caused his powers to kick in involuntarily.

"Mr. Daniel Fenton," the voice said once more with authority, "I would appreciate it if you would at least give me the common courtesy of meeting my gaze as I hand you back your test paper."

He hesitated, trying to catch his breath, and then slowly opened his eyes.

Mr. Lancer stared back at him with a white sheet of paper held out to him, a percentage and a letter in red ink at the top. "Good work, Mr. Fenton. We'll make a student out of you yet."

He felt all the anxiety in his body leave and be replaced with relief and boundless joy.

He had aced his exam.


	8. It Was a Change

Title: It Was a Change  
Fandom: Danny Phantom  
Main Character(s): Vlad  
Supporting Character(s): Danny, Tucker, Sam  
Genre(s): General  
Rating: G  
Note: Inspired by my falling asleep in the art quad at college.  
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the stories I write.  
Written: 27 February 2007

* * *

It was a change, to just lie down on the grass on his back, face to the open sky, and eyes closed, too heavy from the lazy warmth of the afternoon. A breeze rustled his suit and playfully tugged at his neatly kept hair. He took a deep breath, taking in the fragrance of freshly cut grass and flowers (only a handful he could identify).

Then he heard a giggle.

A soft, lighthearted, and sincere giggle that blossomed into a delicate laugh full of glee. It was soon joined by a loud, unyielding laugh that was just as hearty and just as pleasant.

The two cries of joy carried on the warm breeze long after they had ended, the echoes they left seeming to warm his very soul.

He heard no footsteps, but talk much too distant and soft for him to make out. His only guess was that those who had caused the childish noise were still in the area. With that, he risked breaking the welcomed spell the afternoon had cast upon him to see who he should thank for a pleasant afternoon.

What greeted his sight was a dark boy with a red beret upon his head and a small camcorder covering his face, a pale girl in dark clothing that only accented her amethyst eyes, and an ectoplasm-covered ghost boy gripping a technologically enhanced thermos in his hand.

The former two teens looked at him wide eyes while the latter of the three glared at him under snow-white locks stained green.

A smile slowly spread across his face and soon a chuckle escaped with a shaky breath.

His shoulders shook and the rumbling in his chest intensified until it was let out in a low, thundering laugh, free of malice, mockery, frustration, loneliness, confusion, and fear.

He only laughed harder when the darkly dressed girl and the boy with the beret laughed right along with him as the ghost boy crossed his arms (a smile of his own breaking through despite of himself).

Yes.

It was a change.


	9. Her Ending

Title: Her EndingFandom: Danny Phantom  
Main Character(s): Dora Mattingly  
Supporting Character(s): Duchess Aragon, Desiree  
Genre(s): General  
Rating: PG (not really though)  
Note: This is my take on Dora's death. I wrote this a long time ago before "Beauty Marked" aired, so there's no mentioning of Prince Aragon, Dora being a princess, Dora having any siblings, or even the mentioning of Dora's name. There'a compantion one-shot to this, but I'll only post it if people want to read it.  
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the stories I write.  
Written: Sometime in 2005 or 2006

* * *

"No," came the answer, cold and sterile in its delivery.

"But _mother_, the event occurs tonight; you _must _ reconsider--"

Focused irises of the deepest blues silenced the girl's voice. "I will do no such thing."

The woman saw the deep flush spreading across her daughter's pale cheeks, her pale blue eyes alive with icy fire, which were intended for the older of the two, were aimed at the cobble stone floor. "Father would have allowed me to go."

In response to the bitter mumbled response, not meant to be heard, the back of an aged and firm hand met with the silky skin of a face. A slight sting echoed through both bone and flesh that were affected by the action.

"You will _not_ speculate upon what you believe our beloved Duke would or would not allow." Cobalt eyes that had been cool and calculated now stormed with clear displeasure and vexation. With that, the older woman turned on her heel and walked away, her posture regal and intimidating.

The girl watched the Duchess's retreating form through frustrated tears, not only at the woman before her whom she called 'mother' but at herself as well. If it wasn't enough to have the lady of the house deny her the simple pleasures in life, she had to make her feel even more worthless and helpless.

Shaking with bottled emotions of frustration, anger, and broken pride, everything turned red in her sight. With silent but determined steps, she walked in the direction her mother had disappeared to. Tonight would possibly be her final chance to speak with Sir Benedict before he went off with King Harald to reinstate his claim on the throne of England by invading the land and defeating the current King William.

Her passive nature and shyness had always gotten in the way of her confessing to Benedict, but she had built the confidence to face him. However, all of her self-esteem meant nothing if she would not be attending the big social event before the invasion.

Still as she approached the library, where the Duchess spent most of her free time, especially now since the Duke had passed away, her confidence began to dwindle. The very thought of facing that woman was frightening and just the mere thought of how those dark blue eyes would glare menacingly caused her to turn tail instead.

Oh how she hated her timid being! If this was how she would stand up to her mother, then how much more resolved would she be when she faced Sir Benedict?

Sniffling, the young blonde walked the halls to the living quarters of the large estate, bumping into an end table which sported a lavish lamp. Luckily, the girl was quick enough to catch the falling pottery, silently cursing herself. "Oh! Why must I be this way, always causing grief for myself? All I want is to go. Oh … I wish I had something to give me the power to overcome my bashful nature and finally do as I please."

"Is that what you desire?" A woman in what appeared to be gypsy clothing materialized before the girl in a cloud of magenta hues, which flowed from the now open lamp.

Frightened, the young lady took a few steps back, clutching the lamp to her chest and gazing up at the floating woman. "Who are you?"

White pearly teeth set in a disarming smile were cast at the young girl. "A genie friend who can give you what you seek."

"C-can you truly do that?"

The smile widened. With a wave of her transparent hand, a golden necklace with a green gem appeared in the genie's hand. "With this amulet, you will be able to take the anger you harness to achieve whatever you please."

Lithe hands that had reached for the amulet halted. "Anger? Why must it be anger that drives me to my goals?"

"Anger is the most potent emotion in you. This trinket will absorb your anger and use it to do your bidding. Certainly this is what you wanted."

"But of course!"

The genie drew closer to the blonde, the amulet glittering in her hand. "Then come and bear what I offer."

Ice-blue eyes gazed upon the necklace, watching as the jewelry was taken into pale hands. "May I inquire who you are dear lady?"

"You may call me Desiree. Though I must ask what your name might be, young one of ill fortune."

A giggle escaped the girl's throat. "Why my name is--wait," confusion was written all over her pretty face, "What do you mean by 'young one of ill fortune'?"

Sadness loomed over Desiree's features. "Your wish is not the only one I hear." Desiree raised a hand glowing with red light.

"Desiree what are--"

"Every wish that is made in my presence must be granted." Desiree's full lips drew into a line. "You're mother wishes for your death."

The girl stumbled backwards, tripping over the back of her gown. "W-what?"

Glowing red eyes softened. "Nothing personal."

"No!" Small feet scurried to get their owner far from danger while crystal blue eyes began to overflow with tears.

Why would mother harm her? She always knew that mother did not like her for she was no where as strong willed as the older woman, but for her to hate her so much … Could she have sent the Duchess over the edge just because she had spoken back and had mentioned her late father? How absurd to let such trivial things overcome you so much as you would want your own flesh and blood to be killed.

"Mother … If you must hate me," the girl made a sharp turn as Desiree fired another beam of burning red light at her, "then I shall hate you as well."

The amulet's green gem began to glow. "And I shall show you how much I hate you."

Soon, the girl was back to the door of the library and she spent no time in slamming the door open, never ceasing her run. "MOTHER!!"

The Duchess rose from her seat, eyes ablaze at the nuisance before her. "Impudent child, what do you …"

Words were taken from the woman as the girl that ran at her was encased by a green light, fading away to let a dragon quickly approach her. "I WANT TO GO TO THE BALL!!"

Nothing more was said as the Duchess was devoured nor when Desiree finally arrived at the library and carried out the Duchess's last wish.

Only when a flustered Sir Benedict came to the late Duke Aragon's estate the next day did anyone know about the death of the Aragon ladies or about the existence of a golden amulet that glowed in a peculiar green light.


	10. Haircut

Title: Haircut  
Fandom: Danny Phantom  
Character(s): Danny, Sam, Tucker, Manson family  
Rating: G  
Genre(s): General  
Disclaimer: I own nothing but this story.  
Summary: He remembers a time when her hair was almost as long as her ...  
Note: This scene basically happens before Danny meditates to his Shrine of Sam in "Fanning the Flames."  
Written: 12 March 2008

* * *

He remembers a time when her hair was almost as long as her, remembers how she would tie it up in pigtails and use them to "accidentally" whip people. She would be seem sorry--accomplished--for harming people like that, always offering a large apologetic--victorious--smile, especially with Paulina.

Laughing a bit, he leafs through the pictures he keeps in his desk drawer, trying to find a childhood picture, but stops short when he sees another picture of her. She's looking at the camera, but isn't smiling, though he knows that she wanted to.

He recalls when the photo was taken; the summer before seventh grade. It had been a moment to capture, seeing as how it was the moment after her first haircut in about a decade. The only reason she had abandoned her cascading locks was because her parents had gotten a professional hairdresser to strap the little heiress to a chair to do something about her "impractically long hair."

Her parents had wanted to keep it long, about waist length, and they made it perfectly clear that was what they believed was best for their daughter. Of course, said daughter objected, her grandmother backing her up by firing the hired hand (though paying him for his troubles) and cutting her own granddaughter's hair however the girl liked. The result had been buzz-cutting a half of her scalp and fashioning the other half to fall over one side of her pale face like some punk rocker.

She had called him and Tucker the second the last lock of hair hit the floor, thus the photo, courtesy of Tucker Foley. Her parents had gone ballistic over the stunt, but he ever levelheaded-spunky grandmother had kept everything under control and promised to donate the dismembered hair.

He smiled at the memory and went on to look for more photos of her, a large collection already piled on his bed. He wondered if he had enough for a photo album to go along with his shrine.


End file.
